


see you again

by heejinnien



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Angst, Dark, Horror, Implied/Referenced Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-13 21:40:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28785087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heejinnien/pseuds/heejinnien
Summary: you see him whenever your eyes are closed, a faint silhouette against the darkness of your eyelids.
Relationships: Lee Minho | Lee Know/Reader
Kudos: 2





	see you again

**Author's Note:**

> when i published this fic on tumblr, i did not include a synopsis, but i am choosing to include one here due to the nature of the platform. note the warnings of this fic, and please proceed with caution if any of those topics is triggering to you.

You see him whenever your eyes are closed, a faint silhouette against the darkness of your eyelids.

Even though you know he isn’t real, you breathe in slow, even breaths, attempting to hasten the arrival of your unconsciousness. As everything around you slips away, the silhouette becomes more pronounced. You reach out towards him, but like always your hands pass through his form, scattering flakes of gold dust into the air. You already know how this dream is going to end, yet a part of you can’t help but wish that this time he’ll stay.

“Minho,” you breathe out, as the shape in front of you consolidates into an all too familiar man. His ethereal beauty haunts you both day and night and reminds you of everything that you lost, everything that you can no longer have.

Like always, Minho does not speak. He simply exists, an aura of shimmering gold light wearing the face of the boy you once loved. You make no efforts to move, not daring to do anything that would scare him off and cut what precious time you have with your love short.

It happens too soon. Like clockwork, a familiar chime resounds in the distance, so faint that at first you wonder if you have imagined it. Minho gives you a soft smile, the one that used to melt your heart and has nostalgia welling up in your throat, before turning and walking away from you. With each step, your heart seems to grow heavier, as if the distance between you is a physical weight settling on your heart. You attempt to follow him, but your feet are stuck and panic builds inside you, pushing against your ribcage and filling your stomach with lead. You know what comes next. For when he’s gone is when the guilt and rage seeps in, and the nightmare begins.

“Wait, Minho! Come back!” Your cries fall on deaf ears, and you watch as the boy you once loved fades into the distance until you are all alone. Darkness surrounds you, pressing in on all sides and leaving you with the weight of your actions. _This is all your fault_ , it screams at you, harsh words tearing at you like a bitter wind and cutting into you like broken glass. _Look what you’ve done, LOOK WHAT YOU’VE DONE_.

“No!” You shriek, crouching and pressing the palms of your hands against your ears. “This isn’t my fault!”

Your pleas go unanswered, instead echoing in the cavern of your mind in a cacophony of sound. _My fault, my fault, my fault_.

“I’m sorry,” you sob, willing yourself to wake up again. “I’m sorry.”

A low, steady throb begins to push at your temple. The more you attempt to shrink inside your own conscious, the louder it becomes, until the throb has transformed into an insistent beeping that you quickly recognize. Light suddenly floods the darkness of your eyelids and suddenly you are ripped from the depths of your unconsciousness.

You feel hands shaking your shoulders, and your eyes flash open.

Almost immediately you shut them once again, the light around you seeming blinding. You wait, and the fog slowly dissipates from your mind until you are left with the sounds of someone breathing.

You slowly open your eyes once again and are greeted with the color white. For a moment, you think you’ve died, but that would be all too merciful. If you died, you’re sure you would be seeing red anyway, as the devil would surely come for you after all of the sins you’ve committed.

But maybe death wouldn’t be too bad. Maybe you would finally get to see Minho again, and tell him how sorry you are for what happened.

You quickly identify the insistent beeping as that of the building’s alarm system, designed to tear its prisoners from their dreams and force them into another day of monotonous routine. You focus on the familiar noise until your racing pulse calms and the nightmare that had taken place prior fades into the faintest wisps of memory.

The high pitched keening of the alarm ends after a few moments, but a new noise quickly takes its place, causing a new throb to form in your temple. It takes you a moment to orient yourself and realize someone is calling your name, that you are not alone in your hell of white.

“Y/N, are you okay?”

You look over to see a kind looking woman wearing a white coat staring at you worriedly. In one hand, she holds a small cup that you know contains pills. In the other, she holds a plastic water bottle.

As you register the woman and the objects she is holding, the reality of where you are presses down upon you. Disappointment quickly followed by yearning fills you, and if you close your eyes you can almost see Minho standing tangibly in front of you.

A soft cough forces your eyes to open, and you feel a brief flash of resentment towards the woman for interrupting you. She holds out both objects, a clear indication of her expectations. You nod and wordlessly take the pills from her, desperate to do anything to hasten the arrival of night once more so that you can return to your dreams. You brush off the woman’s curious looks, giving her a small smile before popping a red, oblong pill into your mouth. You have long since given up on confiding in the doctors here, as whatever you say only seems to strengthen their deranged perception of you.

After you finish the pills and drink some water, the woman smiles at you. “You’ve done so well recently, I went ahead and made arrangements for you to be allowed to take a bath this morning. Isn’t that great?”

She smiles as if this is the greatest thing in the world, for you to be able to take a bath, as if it’s a privilege granted only to the most special of people. Here, you suppose, it is.

 _Murderers shouldn’t get to take baths_ , you think bitterly. You remain silent, staring at the woman unnervingly. Her smile doesn’t waver, and she simply takes the empty cup and water bottle from you before turning and gesturing for you to follow her.

You do, the sound of your bare feet pattering across the floor the only sound. The woman leads you out of your room and down the hallway, pausing to scan her keycard at a door at the far end. Along the way, psychiatrists and staff of the mental facility pass you, each giving you a brief, sidelong glance. You pretend as though you don’t see them, focusing on the rhythm of your feet as you walk. You can guess what they’re thinking by now, the disgust barely masked on their faces.

The woman pauses by the entrance to the room she has guided you to, standing to the side and holding open the door in a gesture for you to go inside. As you pass, she informs you that you have thirty minutes. Any longer, and they’ll come inside to make sure you’re okay.

You almost laugh at that, but instead nod and walk inside. It is a simple room, with a toilet, sink, and bathtub. You quickly strip, twisting the knob resting above the head of the bath and watching as water gushes into the tub. The water pours out in a roar that is almost loud enough to cut off the whispers of your subconscious that still linger from your nightmare. Almost.

Without waiting for the tub to fully fill, you step inside, ignoring the burning sensation of the hot water. You sink down as far as you can, water lapping against your chin. You tilt your head back, allowing the waves to wash over your ears and muffling the sounds of the world around you.

You close your eyes, and for a moment you think you can see Minho’s silhouette against your eyelids. For a moment, you are back home again. For a moment, Minho is alive once again.

The sounds of distant yelling yank you out of your reverie. The sound is haunting, and even though the water is steaming it sends goosebumps down your arms.

Desperation to be reunited with Minho grows inside you, twisting until it’s an all consuming beast. You close your eyes, attempting to will his image back, but you are only met with the darkness of your closed eyelids.

You open your eyes once again, and then resolve yourself to your next actions. You look around and want to laugh at the sight before you, your last image of the world a desolate bathroom.

When you were younger, you always imagined yourself marrying Minho. The two of you would grow blissfully old together, and when it came time for you to embrace death you would greet him with broad arms and the comfort of knowing you were surrounded by those who loved you.

 _I’m sorry_ , you think, before closing your eyes once again.

You slide down deeper into the water, exhaling and waiting to be reunited with your love.


End file.
